


Run fast if you can

by orphan_account



Series: Yes, I am blind [1]
Category: Morrissey (Musician), The Smiths
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Developing Relationship, M/M, Sleepy Cuddles
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-18
Updated: 2019-12-18
Packaged: 2021-02-18 07:49:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,987
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21840775
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Morrissey seeks comfort in Andy when things turn bad with Johnny.
Relationships: Johnny Marr/Morrissey, Morrissey/Andy Rourke
Series: Yes, I am blind [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1837546
Comments: 7
Kudos: 24





	Run fast if you can

**Author's Note:**

> While Marrissey was real and right in front of everyone’s eyes, Morrissey and Andy is something you’ll definitely have to squint at to see. If you see it, you see it. If you don’t, well, I still hope you enjoy it. 
> 
> Title is from Yes, I am blind by Morrissey. (Andy has said he’s very proud of writing that song with Moz so if you haven’t heard it, please check it out)

It was natural to find Morrissey sat alone in the corner of any room he may be occupying, curled up with his notebook looking like he wasn't inhabiting the same planet as everybody else. He’d usually be scribbling words onto paper - beautiful words like no one else could write. He’d look calm, peaceful. Tonight he was sitting on a worn leather couch in the corner of the bar they’d gone out to after their gig. The singer was writing furiously, his eyebrows drawn together tightly. He looked very out of place to say the least.

Andy sat at the bar, halfway through his third beer of the night. He watched Morrissey, eyes glued to his band mate’s hands. Long, slender fingers gripped a pencil tightly, so tightly he was close to snapping it in half, as it danced across the pages of his notebook; no doubt one would catch a glimpse of the classic Morrissey scrawl if they were to peer over his shoulder - though he wouldn't like that at all. Andy continued to watch him, fascinated. What's got Mozzer all worked up tonight?

The thing is, he doubts anyone will ever know. Morrissey is an incredibly private person. Andy's spent the last few years working with the man and he hardly knows anything personal about him apart from his strong views on vegetarianism, which was enough to make Andy turn one himself. The blonde was caught up in his thoughts as he watched him. How he’d like to go over there and ask what's got him positively pissed, but he's not Johnny, so chances are Morrissey wouldn’t care to share it with him.

Johnny and Morrissey didn’t need to come right out and say it, everyone saw the way the two of them looked at each other. Not to mention the near seven minutes of hell Andy had to endure during Barbarism while Moz swiveled his hips suggestively in Johnny's direction. Johnny once even handed his guitar over to one of the stage managers to dance along with Morrissey; afterwards the two disappeared, though both of them arrived to rehearsal the next morning with that 'just fucked' look. Which was really strange considering Morrissey’s celibacy and all.

It was only natural Andy assumed that the reason for Moz looking as though someone had just ran over his cat was due to the fact that Johnny had brought Angie along for the celebration tonight. And some celebration it was, Andy thought, snorting to himself.

They'd all shared one drink together then went off on their separate ways. Mike was dancing with some girl he’d picked up at the gig, and Johnny and Angie sat tucked in each other’s arms at a booth nearby, snogging the life out of each other. Really the only ones who didn't seem to be enjoying themselves tonight was himself - he was rather bored and the beer wasn't that good - and Mozzer. Maybe the singer wouldn't mind too terribly if Andy bothered him just a little.

After finishing his beer, he stood and made his way over to where Morrissey sat still scribbling furiously in his notebook. Andy, unsure of how to make himself known, just sort of stood there looming over the singer, unnoticed. It was highly uncomfortable, though Morrissey seemed to have that effect on everyone.

Mozzer's entire being practically screamed ‘leave me alone’. However, Andy decided to clear his throat loudly to announce his presence, and when Moz looked up from his notes he did not meet Andy’s smile, instead he scowled as if he had just been greatly inconvenienced. Andy flushed deeply, his cheeks a dark red and scratched the back of his head, embarrassed. Morrissey said nothing, just continued to look positively bothered, the rims of his eyes pink and puffy - had he been crying?

“Hey Moz.” Andy attempted lamely.

Morrissey lifted a brow and blinked rapidly through long lashes. He licked his bottom lip and pulled it between his teeth, then finally closing his notebook, he looked up at the bassist.

Yep. Definitely inconvenienced.

“Andrew.” Answered the singer, tilting his head to the side.

Andy smiled sheepishly, cheeks still pink and ran a hand through his blonde hair. “Just Andy, mate.” He corrected him.

Morrissey seemed to be at debate with himself for a long moment before answering. "Okay. Just Andy.” He said, almost singing it in that voice of his. After a moment when Andy had said nothing at all - seemingly dazed by the whole thing - the singer raised a brow again, questioning. “Did…you...need...something?”

Oh yeah. The whole bloody reason he came over here. Unfortunately the words came out before Andy could think about them. “You looked lonely—”

Morrissey scowled.

Andy wanted to die.

“I mean...” Andy groaned and covered his face with his hands. “I didn't mean— I’m not very good at this whole socializing thing. I’ll let you get back to writing. Sorry.” He turned to leave but stopped when Morrissey spoke softly.

“Neither am I, it would seem...” The singer blushed, biting his lip shyly. Andy grinned. Perhaps this wasn't a total disaster?

“Can I sit with you?”

Morrissey nodded and made room for Andy to join him. Andy sat down, drumming his fingers on his knees nervously looking around the bar. It was quite crowded, as they usually went for. More people, less chance of getting noticed. Andy could tell Morrissey was not impressed in the slightest and had most likely only come along because Johnny asked him to.

“How do you write with all the noise?” Andy asked, nodding at the notebook in Morrissey’s lap.

Morrissey went red in the face and looked down at his notebook, hugging it close to his chest protectively. “I... try my best to tune everyone out.” Andy didn’t miss the singer’s eyes flicker over to where Johnny and Angie sat. They were practically eating each other’s faces. There was nothing wrong with snogging your lady after a good gig. Hell, Andy wished he had someone to snog. It was just… they all looked out for Morrissey, and it was painful to watch him pine so miserably from the sidelines. Maybe Andy could help.

"Hey, do you wanna go back to the hotel?" Andy asked, interrupting the pining. "You can show me what you're working on and I can play something to it? Better than this rubbish,” He pointed out to the general population of the bar.

“Johnny and I normally—” Morrissey began but stopped and watched as Johnny left a trail of kisses down Angie’s neck, hands wandering underneath the table. Moz blushed again, angrily, and spoke through gritted teeth.

“Yes, I think I'd like to leave.” Andy nodded and stood from the couch, waiting for Morrissey to put his jacket on.

They walked past Johnny and Angie’s table quickly, but not quickly enough it would seem as Johnny’s head lifted the moment they did. Could he really sense that it was Moz? Weird.

“You leaving already?” Johnny asked a little out of breath, lips red from kissing.

Angie was quiet, Morrissey looked like he was going to explode at any moment, and Andy felt like he was intruding on a very private moment, one which he couldn’t dream of being invited to.

“Y-yes." Morrissey managed softly. "Andy’s going to take a look at the lyrics I just finished writing. We’re going to—” He was looking Johnny in the eyes as he stepped closer to the bassist, their shoulders brushing together. Then Morrissey did something that no one could have anticipated: he locked arms with Andy and patted him lightly on the chest, smiling. "He rescued me from my lonely corner. It was very sweet of him." Andy blushed, hard. And Johnny looked at the two of them accusingly.

"Cool." He said.

It definitely wasn't cool, in fact Johnny looked rather heated.

"Don't finalize anything. You know I'll want to work on it too. Night guys, have fun." The guitarist's tone was business-like.

Andy gawked at his best friend in disbelief. He'd never heard him speak this way with Morrissey before. Johnny didn't seem to care though and pulled Angie back into his lap, returning to his prior activity of sucking that spot on her neck. She giggled and hid her face in his shoulder. Morrissey grew tense at Andy's side as he watched the display of affection, fingers digging into his shoulder. The singer said nothing more, obviously hurt, and pulled Andy along with him towards the exit.

Once outside, he quickly separated himself from Andy's side and looked pleadingly at him to call a cab for them. They couldn't stand out here too long, fans would soon recognize Morrissey and that would be a disaster on top of the one he'd just witnessed. Andy obliged quickly and called for a cab. Luckily it wasn't any trouble at all getting one and the two of them soon found themselves seated in the back of one of America's classic yellow lifts, on their way to the hotel. Morrissey was silent the whole ride there, looking out at the night sky. He'd sniffle every so often and Andy suspected that he was crying. Upon further inspection as they got out of the cab and walked into the hotel lobby, Andy discovered that he was indeed crying. The blonde had no idea what to do and he wasn't about to make things worse by trying to comfort Moz. So the two of them walked in silence to the elevator, which was playing a horrible jazz tune, but it drowned out Morrissey's sniffling so Andy wasn't too mad at it.

When it came time for the pair to go to their separate rooms Andy began doing just that having forgotten the whole reason he was here now and not getting plastered back at the bar with Mike. Morrissey stopped and called to him softly, confusion seeping from his voice. "Don't you want to take a look at the lyrics?" He asked as he exited the lift, wiping the tears from his eyes with the sleeve of his jacket. He smiled at Andy weakly.

He didn't really want to, but Andy couldn't leave him. Not now. It would be too cruel.

"Oh. Yeah. Do you still want me to?" _Please, say no. Spare us both the awkwardness._

"I do, Andy."

Andy smiled and tried to look as though he hadn't just witnessed whatever disaster happened back at the bar with Johnny.

"Let me just grab my bass really quick. Wait here?" Morrissey nodded and leaned up against the hallway wall, looking quite miserable, though that was pretty normal for him.

Andy dug in his pockets and pulled out the key to his room. He shut the door behind him and leaned back against it, sighing heavily. What the fucking fuck was all that? He wasn't sure if he wanted to know, but judging by the look Johnny had given him he had a pretty good idea: Johnny and Morrissey were both possessive freaks.

He could just stay in his room— Morrissey would eventually get the idea and retire to his own room, right? No. He'd told him to wait. Moz didn't want to be alone. Andy would be a total asshole if he stayed locked in here like a coward. Besides what was Johnny going to do? Nothing— he's too busy with Angie. Andy grabbed his guitar and returned out in the hallway a moment later. Morrissey smiled and together they walked down to the other end of the hall to the singer’s room. It was freshly done up by the maids, but it wouldn't have mattered anyway, Mozzer was a neat freak.

Morrissey sat on the bed and tapped the space next to him, inviting Andy to do the same. Andy was nervous again and he didn't know why. It's just Mozzer, he's just showing you some music. He tried to rationalize this in his head. To save himself from further awkwardness he sat beside Moz looking anywhere but his eyes. Morrissey held the notebook in his hands but didn't open it. Instead he played with the edges distractedly.

"How about a drink first?" Morrissey stood and walked over to the untouched mini bar, picking up a bottle and squinting at the label. "Jack Daniel's?" He read outloud, sounding unimpressed.

"American whiskey— I’ve heard it’s good." Andy noted awkwardly.

Morrissey hummed and returned with two mini bottles handing one to Andy. "Let's find out then, shall we?" He challenged, a playful smile on his lips as he unscrewed the bottle and sniffed its contents. His nose wrinkled immediately. Andy couldn't help but laugh.

"They chase it here," Andy said and walked over to the mini fridge, grabbing a coke and a plastic cup. He handed both to Morrissey. "Mix them. It'll taste better." Morrissey did just that, pouring the fizzy drink first then the whiskey. He swirled the contents around, holding the cup daintily.

Sometimes it was hard for Andy to remember that Steven Morrissey was indeed a man. He was far too pretty, and skinny and gentle. There was also the flowers he so often tucked into his back pockets at gigs and the strings of jewels he wore around his belt loop. And he was terribly shy, always blushing. Morrissey was annoyingly cute, Andy decided.

The bassist popped the top off of his own whiskey and took a sip. The liquid burned in the back of his throat and he coughed, not expecting it to be so strong. He caught Morrissey watching him curiously, looking as though he was debating whether or not he should try the drink. Andy nudged him encouragingly. “Just take a small sip." He said with a smile.

Hesitantly, Morrissey brought the cup to his lips, his nose wrinkled by the smell of it. He tipped the cup back just slightly, his face half obscured by it. Andy watched, fascinated, as the singer swallowed a small amount.

"It burns a little—“ Morrissey began amusedly, licking his lips. "But it is...dare I say… enjoyable?" He grinned at Andy, blushing.

Andy laughed. It was such a bizarre thing happening between them. Here they were, sharing Mozzer's first whiskey and coke in some hotel room in America. And they were having a good time. At least, it looked as though they were. Morrissey was smiling even if his eyes were still puffy from crying earlier, and his mood seemed to have improved greatly. His body was much more relaxed as he sat on his bed, swirling the contents of his cup, occasionally taking small sips of the drink. It was much better than any company they’d find back at that bar.

“You said you’d play for me.” Morrissey said softly after a few moments of silence. Andy had laid back on the bed, having finished his drink rather quickly. He opened his eyes upon hearing Morrissey speak and sat up on his elbows, brows raised in question.

“You hear me play all the time. Don’t you get tired of it?” He didn’t mind playing for Morrissey if that’s what he wanted, Andy just figured they’d all want a break.

“No.” Came Mozzer’s flat tone. It almost sounded defensive. The last thing Andy wanted to do was upset him.

“Okay, well, what do you want to hear?” He asked and sat up on the bed. His guitar was resting up by the pillows and he grabbed it gently, cradling it in his lap like a baby (Johnny and Mike liked to make fun of him for it, but his guitar was the one most important thing in his life, of course he’d treat it like it was his child).

“Johnny sent you the music for the new song he wrote? I’ve written the lyrics and want to try them out with the guitar,” Morrissey informed him and walked over to the nightstand to retrieve his journal, flipping through the pages as he sat back down on the bed.

“Yeah, sure, I’ll just—“ Andy started, but never finished. Morrissey was watching him closely as his fingers found their familiar place on the strings of the bass. He could feel himself blushing, Morrissey never watched him, only Johnny. The whole thing felt too intimate for Andy’s liking. In fact he felt like a bug being watched under a microscope. But still, he began to play, and Morrissey joined him after a few lines.

Andy felt the raw emotion coming from Morrissey’s voice as he continued to play. It was beautiful and sad and full of passion, and all about Johnny. He’d be a fool not to pick up on that. Listening to the lyrics, Andy couldn’t help but wonder why Morrissey seemed to think he was unlovable. Surely Johnny bringing Angie along for the night didn’t mean the end of all things, or did it? He was so intent on figuring out what he could have missed between his friend and their singer that he didn’t realize Morrissey had stopped singing. Andy looked up from his guitar, Morrissey had started to cry again - silently this time, but just as dramatic - he was more distant than before.

“Moz?” Andy called gently and set his bass aside before laying a hand on Morrissey’s shoulder. Morrissey took this as an invitation to get closer and leaned into Andy’s lap. Andy froze, unsure of how to react. He and Morrissey hardly ever touched, sometimes their shoulders would brush in passing or they’d high-five each other after a gig, but they’d never been this close. Besides the only person Morrissey ever allowed to hug him was Johnny.

“Morrissey.” Andy called again softly, his hands awkwardly hovering at his sides.

Nothing. Silence. But then... “Will you hold me? Please…?” Morrissey begged in a whisper.

He was like an overgrown house cat demanding attention. Andy felt bad for his friend but also horribly uncomfortable at the same time. Slowly he let his hands rest on the singers thin frame, just barely touching him. Morrissey sighed, then mumbled a ‘thank you’ into Andy’s side.

“Yeah… sure…” Andy’s voice shook as he desperately tried to relax. He must be as stiff as a rock right now. He can’t imagine Morrissey being comfortable at all, but to his surprise the singer continued to cuddle even closer, searching for warmth.

Andy wasn’t normally this reserved when it came to physical intimacy, but this was Morrissey, his _celibate_ band mate. Though Moz didn’t seem to mind being nestled against the bassist. So Andy decided fuck it and let his touch wander up into the singer’s hair -something he’d secretly wanted to do for a long time - almost petting him and ruining his perfect quiff in the process. They stayed like that for a while; Andy petting him and occasionally scratching the top of his head, and Morrissey becoming heavy with sleep, his body warm against the other. When Andy nearly fell asleep himself, (he’d stopped petting Mozzer’s hair and this obviously annoyed Morrissey) the singer broke the silence.

“Will you stay with me tonight? I don’t want to be alone.” Andy tensed at the request. They were too close, Morrissey was practically laying on top of him. This was just asking for something bad to happen, and what if he found it so shameful in the morning that Mozzer decided to kick him out of the band?

“Are you sure? I’m not good company, and I snore,” He hoped Morrissey would come to his senses at that last bit, but it didn’t quite work the way he wanted. In fact it warranted the opposite reaction.

“Yes, I’m sure, Andy.” Moz answered, his tone light and unbothered, teetering dangerously upon sounding _flirty._ “I want you to stay,” Moz looked at him with those beautiful blue eyes of his. 

He cocked an eyebrow and shook his head, laughing. “You tend to get everything you want with that look, don’t you?”

Morrissey smirked and leaned closer, their foreheads almost touching as he whispered a breathy “yes” above him. Andy was suddenly struck with the all too familiar feeling of lust pooling in his belly. And somehow his hand had found its way to Morrissey’s lower back, pressing them closer. This was bad. This was very bad. Yet he did nothing to put a stop to it.

“Fine, you win, but when you can no longer hear properly, that’s all on you. No kicking me out of the band,” Their lips were just a breath away from touching, if Morrissey slipped they’d share a kiss.

“I wouldn’t dare,” Morrissey teased. There was something in his eyes, something Andy hadn’t seen before. He realized this was a look reserved for Johnny Marr alone.

“I’ll hold you to it.“ Andy said, swallowing thickly. Moz smiled and leaned his head on his chest. It was hard to ignore the desire he was currently feeling for his friend, but he couldn’t just pull a quick one on Morrissey. The man was involved with his best friend. What kind of a wanker hooks up with his mates lover? 

“You’re very warm…” Said a sleepy Morrissey, his voice vibrated against Andy’s chest.

“And you’re drunk,” Andy pointed out and against his better judgment, his hands squeezed Morrissey’s waist.

“M’not.”

“You are. Stop pouting and go to sleep.” Andy teased and rolled them over on their sides, now they were spooning This, he decided, was a horrible decision as he was now pressed up against his friend’s backside, his lips almost touching the back of his neck. Morrissey didn’t seem to mind. In fact he relaxed completely and pressed himself into the pillows, sighing in content. Andy however was now dealing with the world’s most inconvenient boner.

“Good night, Andy.”

“Night Mozzer.” 

It was the early hours of the morning when Andy stirred from his sleep. There was a light tapping noise coming from somewhere. He untangled himself from Morrissey, who was curled at his side and sleepily got out of bed, walking to the door.

He opened it and there stood Johnny.

“Andy?” Johnny spat, confused and obviously annoyed. “Where the hell is Morrissey?”

“He’s sleeping, wasn’t feeling well and didn’t want to be alone. He’s fine.” Andy told him defensively. He’d done a good job taking care of him while Johnny spent time with his girlfriend. Morrissey didn’t need to be bothered right now.

“Yeah, fine. Would you mind telling me what the fuck is going on here? Since when did you start spending the night with Moz?”

“Since he asked me to. You don’t own him, mate. He was sad and didn’t want to be alone and now he’s asleep. Let him be.” Andy couldn’t believe his best friend was acting this way, it was ridiculous.

Johnny looked like he might start throwing punches. Instead he just laughed and ran a hand through his long fringe. “You wanna play the hero then fine by me, but just you wait. He’s a lot of fucking work. Run fast if you can,” Johnny scowled and began walking back to his own room, leaving Andy standing there in the doorway stunned.

“Johnny?” Morrissey called softly from the bed. Andy shut the door and got back into bed, wrapping his arms around the other’s waist.

“Moz, it’s Andy, do you remember? That was just the maid. I told her to come back later.”

“Oh,” Morrissey sounded quite defeated. “And Johnny? Did he ever come?”

“No.” Andy lied. It felt horribly wrong doing so but he didn’t want to upset him any more tonight. “He’s okay though, Angie just probably wasn’t feeling good and he most likely wanted to stay with her in case she needed him.”

“Hmm…you’re right.” Morrissey replied with a yawn. He pressed closer to Andy, falling back asleep. Andy had too much on his mind to sleep. He settled back comfortably against Morrissey, feeling extremely protective over the man that slept in his arms. 


End file.
